Rose Blood
by IrishCreamTruffle
Summary: Sasha slips down the rabbit hole. Sasha Banks/Becky Lynch. SLASH. Part III of the Love is Stronger than Witchcraft series.
**Disclaimer:** I do not own anyone or anything; if I did, I'd have better things to do than sit at a lady-queer friendly coffee shop and write this. I'm not making one penny writing this, and as far as I know, it never happened.

 **Notes:** Part III of Love is Stronger than Witchcraft. Takes place a few months after Brooklyn Calling and Elevate Me Later – a little closer to the beginning of the Diva's Revolution… Maybe a month or two in. You can figure out what's going on without reading the preceding Brooklyn Calling or Elevate Me Later, but the first two parts certainly help put this in context.

The next part is in the process of being finished and very soon to follow; it was originally all one part but I didn't like the original transition, which made me realize that they really should be two separate pieces.

Thank you to everyone who left me words, kudos, follows, and favorites! As hard as I'm working, this is still a rare pair and femslash is a lonely area of the Internet.

You can find the feelzy soundtrack on "Elevate Me Later."

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This is the only set from Becky's ring gear that Sasha actually likes.

The other ones are beyond tacky, but most offensively, they leave too much to the imagination.

But this one… this one she got right.

The deep oxblood red of the crop top is rich and it looks like sex against her skin. The leather black strap across her chest is evocative without being desperate. The shorts fall just right so that Sasha can appreciate the shape of Becky's hips and thighs.

And she does.

On the stage, Becky's stretching her arms up high as her theme music blasts through the arena. It draws Sasha's eyes to the smooth curve from Becky's waist to her hips to her thighs before Becky's sprinting down the ramp like a bat out of hell with its head still on fire.

Hips and thighs. Hips and thighs. Hips and thighs. It's like her brain's stuck on repeat as she watches from the backstage monitor.

It's Becky against some Bella. Sasha knows she's supposed to be scouting this, and to her credit, she does half-heartedly note Paige and Charlotte skittering around on the sidelines in an unimpressive attempt at cheerleading.

But she's much more interested in watching Becky's thighs, thinking about the weight of them resting on her shoulders; she's interested in dragging the edge of her teeth against the curve of Becky's hip.

Her mind prefers this path to Tamina and Naomi's rally speech behind her, so she's a little out of rhythm when they signal to her that it's time to go.

It's fine. Among many other things, Sasha's a fantastic improviser.

She bolts down the ramp not far behind Naomi and Tamina, throwing the match into an automatic disqualification. It's to a mix of boos and cheers and indifference, and Sasha makes a beeline for Becky. Tamina and Naomi aren't with her so she assumes that they've taken on [insert name here] Bella.

Since she's not in a place to draw shapes on the inside of Becky's thigh with her tongue, she drives the sole of her boot there instead.

Since she can't squeeze the flesh of Becky's hips between her fingers, she punts her shin against it in lieu thereof.

Sasha recognizes that this isn't the healthiest train of thought to follow; she's not delusional. But it comes with the territory.

She sees black fabric flank either side of her—sees her own two boots multiply to six landing on Becky at various points.

This isn't what she wants. This Shield-method gang up is tried and true, and she can appreciate its consistency, but she doesn't need help with Becky.

She doesn't want this for Becky.

In the quickly passing seconds where she's surmising a way to redirect Tamina and Naomi, something's yanking her backwards by the hair and she's sailing spine-first into the mat.

As Paige's weight moves over her, she catches a flash of yellow hair barreling Tamina and Naomi over the top rope.

Sasha's being isolated and her wrist is being twisted in a direction that it's not supposed to go, and for what Sasha knows is the first and will be the last time, she's glad for it.

Two hands belonging to either one or two people grab her arms, yanking her under the bottom rope and outside the ring, and somehow the only thing that follows her outside is the burn of canvas hot against her back.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon…" Naomi or Tamina urges as they retreat back up the ramp. Paige and Charlotte are panting and glaring at them from the ring as the distance between their teams grows.

Sasha doesn't care about that.

From behind Paige and Charlotte, Becky is slowly pushing herself up to a seated position. If Sasha was Paige and Charlotte, she'd be more concerned with Becky and less with telekinetic experiments, but that's just her.

It doesn't matter though, because Sasha's back behind the curtain with Naomi and Tamina before the post-head-slammed-into-mat thought can go any further.

Post-partial failure and partial success, Sasha, Naomi, and Tamina divvy to their own respective directions, leaving Sasha with the rest of the night to feel anything but guilty.


End file.
